


lookin at you and feelin what i'm feelin

by imdeansgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Slash, Short One Shot, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:21:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imdeansgirl/pseuds/imdeansgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wasn’t exactly sure where the cards and stuffed animals were coming from, but he was sure that they were no good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lookin at you and feelin what i'm feelin

**Author's Note:**

> so short i'm so sorry

Sam wasn’t exactly sure where the cards and stuffed animals were coming from, but he was sure that they were no good.

They could have been from Dean, first of all. Dean, with the rambunctious pranks and the wild eyes and the stuck-up hair. Dean, his older brother, who would certainly love to mess with Sam by sending him the obnoxious cards signed by ‘the secret admirer.’ He would laugh as Sam’s hopes were dashed and faded with his reveal and say something like ‘better luck next time, Sammy.’ They could have been from Cas, maybe. His best friend and former crush, who always stared at him blankly for a minute or two longer than he should have and lingered within Sam’s personal space for weird, random amounts of time. But Sam doubted it, and he was almost certain that Cas was absolutely smitten with Dean.

The cards and various valentines probably could have been from Jo, too. His other best friend. Jo, whose wild and crazy ideas from next door had been getting him into trouble since they were eight, whose mom and dad he called aunt and uncle, whose blonde hair got tangled up in Sam’s brown ones at their childhood sleepovers. But Jo couldn’t be that much of a dick. Could she?

No matter who they were from, every day like clockwork, Sam would get one in his locker—a cheesy valentine with a stuffed animal or chocolate attached, always signed ‘secret admirer’ in a beautiful, flowing script. Sam would pick it up, smile, stuff it in his locker, and wait for the next day, the next grand gesture of valentine-ness.

Besides being wary and cautious, Sam was actually _grateful_ for the gifts. They made him feel something again. Something he had not felt since his Huge-Gay-Crush on Castiel, where he figured out _huh, maybe not just girls then?_ With the help of Cas’ older brother, Gabriel, (the only one he felt he could turn to in this desperate time of need) he discovered _pansexual._ As in sexually attracted to all genders. It was the only word he was comfortable using to describe himself.

Anyway, Sam felt _important_ upon receiving the gifts and cards. He felt _different._ And it took his mind off the college applications (“ _Stanford,_ Sam,” Dean cried, shaking the acceptance letter in his face. “ _Stanford!_ ”) and stress (“Sam, it isn’t very healthy to squeeze stress balls that hard…” Cas muttered, poking at Sam’s whitened knuckles.) that came with his senior year. Senior year had literally been the worst experience of his entire life, thank you very much.

The gifts began in the tail-end of January. They hadn’t been back from winter break too long, maybe a week or so, when Sam opened his locker, only for a stuffed bee with ‘BEE MINE’ written on it. Jo laughed as she picked it up and tossed it in the air. “Wow,” she said. “Sam’s got a secret admirer, huh?”

“Very funny, Jo,” Sam replied, slamming his locker shut and rolling his eyes. “Ha-ha-hilarious.”

Cas was coming up from the ground, a card in his hand. “I don’t think she’s kidding, Sam,” he murmured, opening the card to find ‘secret admirer’ written on the inside. “You really do have a secret admirer.”

Sam snatched both the card and the stuffed bee, blinking at it in surprise. “Huh. Well.” He looked back and forth between his two best friends. Jo was grinning and Cas looked about as neutral as always. Neither of their faces led to any suspicion, so he just shrugged and shoved the gifts in his backpack. “Probably some kind of fluke.”

But the gifts kept coming.

Two months had passed. Valentine’s Day had come and gone, with no particularly interesting gifts to speak of. They were mostly small stuffed animals and cards (though he did receive chocolate on Valentine’s Day). He’d received a squirrel (‘you’re making me squirrelly with love’), a whale (‘whale, whale, whale, guess who I love!’), a fish (‘fished my wish when I met you!’), and a dog (‘you’re the dog gone best!’) when things changed.

He was spinning the combination into his lock, preparing to open his locker and face the gift of the day when he was slammed to the side. The force was smaller and considerably shorter than he was, meaning he was not fully impacted and simply stumbled a little. “What the Hell, man?” he asked.

“I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry, I j—“

He took the moment given to assess the person blabbering at him. Tan skin, huge brown eyes, and dark hair, the person in question was male and almost a head shorter than Sam. His eyes were concerned and his mouth moving a mile a minute, forming apologies and excuses with every new word. He had his backpack on, too; it was steadfastly secured with the two straps wrapped around skinny shoulders, and it was bulging with overuse, obviously so much homework crammed in that he almost needed a second backpack. It was then Sam noticed he wasn’t at all paying attention to the words falling from the boy’s mouth, which was small, wow, Sam needed to stop staring at the boy’s mouth before questioned and probably punched in the face.

“—and so we saw you _again_ on the second day,” the boy’s saying, not looking Sam in the eyes. “And she was being totally shifty about the whole thing, but anyway, the point is, I just only found out _today,_ and I would very much appreciate it if you didn’t punch me in the face, dude.”

Sam scrunched his eyebrows up. Obviously he missed half the story trying to bore holes into the dude’s face with inquisitive eyes, but something about his words weren’t adding up _anyway._ “Wait, so,” he pulled open the locker and reached in, pulling out a stuffed deer (‘you’re so deer to me!’). “These are from you?”

The boy blushed, his tan face heating to scarlet in a matter of seconds as he reached back to scratch at the back of his neck one-handed. “Well, yeah, kind of,” he murmured. “I mean, technically someone else was sending them, but I was the one they were intended to be from, and I mean, I kind of gave Charlie all the ideas, so…” He sighed then, and dropped his hand and shook his head. “Listen, this is just my best friend’s way of making fun of the humungous crush I have and trying to help me out in the romantic department. But really, if you want to just give me the stuff back, forget about it, and never speak to me again, that’s totally fine and definitely what I’m expecting.”

Sam, of course, only honed in on one thing. “Wait… ‘humungous crush’?”

The blush returned, deeper and redder this time, and Sam was sure that if he were to reach out, his face would burn him. “Er, yeah,” he muttered, ducking his head. “We saw your debate, like I said, and, um, debates are totally hot. I… sorry. Again.”

Grinning, Sam shook his head, floppy fringe falling into his eyes. “It’s not a big deal,” he assured. “What’s your name?”

The boy lifted his head, eyebrows furrowed. He looked surprised, almost as if he weren’t expecting Sam to ask that. After a second, he shook himself. “Kevin,” he said, at length. “Kevin Tran.”

Sam leaned against the locker and tried to shake the fringe out of his eyesight. He sighed, noting the need in haircut. “How come I haven’t seen you around, Kevin?” he asked, eventually reaching out to close his locker.

Kevin cleared his throat. “Freshman,” he said. “I—I’m a freshman.”

Sam inwardly winced. That meant he was, what, fourteen? Fifteen? But the kid was cute, and awkward, and Sam liked it when he blushed and found himself wanting to know _more._ “Alright, Freshman Tran,” he said. He flicked his tongue out to lick his lips, watched Kevin’s eyes follow the movement, and moved to snatch the pen out of Kevin’s hand. He pulled out his notebook, jotted down the well-memorized information, ripped it off, and put the pen and the slip of paper securely in the hand of the younger boy.

Opening it, a surprised laugh clawed its way out of Kevin’s throat. Sam decided he liked that, too, and the bemused grin that followed it even better. “Phone number?” he asked, incredulously and surprised, as if there were _no way_ Sam meant to actually hand this to him. “You—you’re giving me your phone number?”

Sam grinned and hiked his backpack up on his shoulder. “And don’t be afraid to use it,” he suggested wisely, before turning to head off in the opposite direction.

“W—wait!” Kevin called after him. “Wait, is this for real? Like, can I really call you?”

Turning, Sam found a confused Kevin staring after him in disbelief, in wariness, as if he still wasn’t sure whether or not Sam was completely for real. “If your mom doesn’t tuck you in first,” he joked, a cheap shot at Kevin’s young age. Kevin flicked his eyebrows, as if he expected more out of Sam, really. “But yeah. Like, you can really call me.”

Kevin grinned, and Sam grinned back, and as they stood there, Sam with a stuffed deer and Kevin with Sam’s phone number and a million other students passing them in the hallway as they all left school for the day, Sam _felt something._


End file.
